Rare Blood

Chapter Forty-Five: Unholy Intentions

They had left him alone presumably under the assumption that he was too weak to escape and maybe they were right, but Cyrus was capable of anything if properly motivated, and for him there was no greater motivation than Faye. This was the chance he had been praying for and he didn't know how long he had, so he had to act fast. He needed to get off that table without causing the blade at his throat to drop.

The chains that held his arms and legs could be broken with some effort, but it seemed too easy to simply pop them, grab the blade, and move. He figured it probably went something like break the chains and the blade drops... along with his head. That would explain why the blade was positioned at his throat, it ensured he would lose his head before he could stop it.

The blade was sharp enough that even lacking a few feet of gravitational pull he had zero doubt in its effectiveness.   

As he tried to devise a plan, a question presented itself... If my bones no longer held their form, would I be able slip the cuff and catch it?

It seemed possible, he could break his hand then he might be able to pull it free to grab the guillotine blade before causing any slack in the chains. Trouble was, it would be a flip of a coin kind of maneuver, and he didn't feel good about that kind of fifty-fifty.

He tried for another idea and when nothing came to him he decided to go for it. He couldn't let indecision ruin what might be his one and only chance.

His arms were cuffed together under the table and it took a little stretching to get a good grip around his left hand with his right, but when he had it he squeezed hard. One by one the bones in his left hand cracked under the pressure. When he released his grip, his left hand was half the width it had been and the metal cuff slipped off into the fingers of his right hand.

The sudden movement of the cuff caused the steel blade to drop down an inch into his neck before he was able to catch it with his misshaped hand.  He pull it out then yanked, snapping it free, setting it down next to his thigh.  He jerked his right arm, clanking the metal loudly as it pulled tight around his wrist before it gave under his strength. The bones in his left hand regained their shape and then he got to work removing bolts from his chest.

He pulled enough metal out to make a difference, then he freed his legs and got off the table taking the blade from the guillotine with him. He crouched down and moved for the door just as it started to slide open.

He rushed over putting his back against the cold stone next to the entrance hoping like crazy he was strong enough to fight because he still had bolts protruding from his midsection and was down a serious amount of blood.

Hector was forced into the room and Cyrus knew it would be immediately obvious that he was no longer on the table.  The big Vampire noted his absence and spun on his heals with Hector still in his clutches. As luck would have it, or fate,  Cyrus was faster and circled placing him behind the big bastard. He had a full second to line up his next move, which was to jump on the dungeon masters back catching him off guard.

Cyrus had a grip on his head and broke his neck before he knew what hit him. The Vampire dropped to his knees then crumpled face first to the floor releasing Hector along the way.

It was a temporary lights out so he ignored Hector, raised the steel that was still wet with his own blood up over his head, before bringing it down with both hands severing the torturers fat head from his over-sized body, but he didn't stop there... Cyrus stood taking the blade with him as he turned to deal with Hector who looked up at him with lifeless brown eyes, he knew it was over. Still the weasel of a Vampire whispered hoarsely, "I'll help you... If you help me..."